Beautifully Broken
by Bluenose
Summary: The team hunts a killer that has piqued Webb's interest. Title by Gov't Mule
1. Chapter 1

-1Hey Guys,

I own nothing to do with The Inside. If I did, do you think it would have been cancelled?

Title is taken from a song by Gov't Mule.

Hope you all enjoy.

**Chapter One**

"What have you got for me, people?" Webb leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his folded hands

Melody gulped, paging quickly through the folder in front of her. "Series of home invasions in West Hollywood. No apparent connection between the victims, but LAPD are pretty sure it's the same gang carrying out the attacks."

"Pass." His eyes flicked from her to Danny.

"But, Webb…"

"I said 'Pass', Mel. Let LAPD handle it. It's a police matter anyway. It doesn't need our expertise. Danny?"

"There's a group, taking money to smuggle people across the Mexican border and then…"

"No Danny."

"It's a good case, Webb…"

"You're not growing a beard for any reason." Webb sighed theatrically. "Rebecca?"

She looked at the folder in front of her, the case she had painstakingly prepared to pitch to him. Then she closed it, shaking her head.

He sighed again. "Then we're done here." He stood up and was halfway to the door of the briefing room when Paul's voice stopped him.

"I got something for you."

xxxXXXxxx

I can taste the alcohol on her lips as she kisses me, the warmth of her body as she presses herself against me.

God, she's beautiful.

We break apart as I try to open the door of the room. She's swaying on her feet, her eyes glazed, lips swollen, her lipstick smeared. She leans against me and I can smell her perfume, mingling with sweat and cigarettes.

I close my eyes, struggling with the lock as her hand slips inside my shirt, cool against my flushed skin, running down my chest, nerves burning, tingling after her touch.

Maybe this time…

The door opens so suddenly it catches us both by surprise. We stumble inside the room, the stale smell of the room greeting us, greeting me like an old friend.

Why do all hotel rooms smell the same?

I manage to kick the door closed behind us, kissing her again. Her eyes closing as my hands roam across her body.

The heat of her body, the feel of her skin, the smell of her perfume, the taste of her mouth. She fills my senses, consuming my brain.

God, she's beautiful. She's beautiful and she wants me.

I should be on fire. I should want her.

Why do I feel nothing?

xxxXXXxxx

Webb stopped, his hand stretching out towards the door. "What have you got, Paul?"

"Series of murders. I know how you like a series, Webb." Paul pushed a number of crime scene photos across the table as Webb stalked back to it, snatching one of them up with greedy hands. "Three girls in the last six weeks, found strangled in hotel rooms across Los Angeles."

Webb smirked, dropping the photo. "Sex game gone wrong?"

Paul shook his head. "I don't think so. There's no evidence of sexual assault. LAPD's collected some hair and fibres but there's no match to anything that's in the system yet."

Webb nodded, leaning over the table, drumming his fingers against the photographs. "Any connection between the victims?"

"None that we can find." Paul closed the folder, resting his arms across it, his sardonic smile an almost perfect match for Webb's. "I didn't want to do dig any deeper until I found out if you were interested."

Webb held his gaze for a second longer, then his eyes snapped onto Rebecca. "What do you think?"

"Me?"

"Yes." He gestured impatiently. "Why should we take Paul's serial strangler case?"

"Well, strangulation is the most personal way to kill." She raised her small hands, fingers angled into claws. "It's a loss of control, the UNSUB actually has to put his hands on the victim. He has to want to kill…"

xxxXXXxxx

"What's wrong, baby?"

I can't feel anything.

I can't feel anything.

I can hear her though. I can hear her, laughing at me, mocking me. Just like all the others.

I stumble away from her, the high edge of the bed pressing against the backs of my legs. I sit on the bed, almost falling onto the mattress. I rest my aching head in my heads, trying to block out the sound of her laughter.

I'm just a fucking joke to her. Just like all the others, all they want to do is laugh at me.

I hear her careful step across the room, then her slight weight settling across my lap, the too short skirt riding up, her skin milky white, pure.

"Poor baby." She leans in to kiss me, her long hair tickling the side of my face as it hangs loose around us, curtaining us off from the world. "Maybe I can make it all better."

I cant feel anything.

I hear her startled gasp as my hands close around her throat. Fingers tightening, digging into the tender skin.

She's not fucking laughing anymore. Bitch.

She's not fucking laughing at me now. Writhing on my lap, small fingers clawing at mine, my hands closing tighter around her throat, struggling for every breath.

I watch her face, her eyes, as the life slowly fades from her body. Her last breath is nothing more than a whisper, a gasp.

And then I can feel everything, my head thrown back in the ecstasy of the moment.

Just like before.

Except better. It gets better every time.

xxxXXXxxx

"I know this, Rebecca." Webb made no attempt to hide the impatience in his voice. "I want to know why we should take this case."

Rebecca hesitated, feeling the eyes of the rest of the team on her, the unruly student being lectured by the headmaster. She shrugged, reluctant to meet Paul's eyes. "I don't know."

Webb looked back at Paul, smiling triumphantly. "Not interested." He turned his back on the team, dismissing them.

"There's something else, Webb." Paul pulled another photo from the folder. "A fourth victim." He pushed it down the table towards Webb. "She was killed last night."

"Last night." Danny frowned, trying to sneak a peak at the photo before Webb lifted it. "How come you got them so quick?"

"I got a buddy in LAPD CSI. He emailed them to me as soon as he realised it matched the MO of the other killings." Paul fell silent, angry with himself when he realised he was waiting, hanging on Webb's approval.

Just like the rest of them.

Webb sighed heavily. "Mel and Danny go to the LAPD Crime Lab. Get what they evidence they have collected and start going through witness statements. Someone had to see our UNSUB. Paul, you and Rebecca, go to the crime scene, see what you can pick up there."

"I thought you weren't interested."

"I wasn't." Webb's eyes glinted with dark, grim amusement. "But I am now."

**End of Chapter One**

_Please, Read and Review_


	2. Chapter 2

-1Hey Guys,

A huge thank you to everyone that read and reviewed chapter one.

**Chapter Two**

The stale familiar smell of a hotel room greeted them as they walked into the crime scene. The small room was busy, overcrowded with CSIs and cops, the low rumble of their conversation spilling out into the corridor.

The flash of a crime scene camera split the room, the sudden brightness causing Rebecca to flinch and shield her eyes.

Paul rapped his badge against the wall, holding it up as attention turned to him. "Special Agent Ryan, Special Agent Locke. We're with the LA VCU. We'll be taking over this investigation." He glanced around the room, making sure that every cop and CSI met his eyes. "We're not trying to step on any toes here. We just want to get this guy before he kills another girl."

Rebecca started to walk around the scene, holding herself carefully, making sure that she didn't contaminate the scene. Around her, LAPD went back to work, photographing, logging, collecting the evidence. She drifted closer to the bed, to the twisted body, the vivid marks standing out against the pallor of her skin.

'He closes the eyes. He cant stand for them to look at him.'

"Anything?"

Paul's voice was close to her ear, his body close behind hers. Trying to help her to see what had happened.

It didn't work.

It didn't…unlock the door. Didn't drag up the blood stained insight, weeping and bleeding from the dark.

"He doesn't want them to see him." She fumbled through the reports, producing the photos of the other victims. "See? He's ashamed….ashamed of what he's done."

Paul nodded, the movement taught and impatient. "Anything else, Rebecca?"

He couldn't do this. It didn't work with him, not matter how hard he tried. He just didn't understand…

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, shaking her head. "No. I don't know. No." She shook her head again. "There's been too many people here, disturbing the scene. I cant get a….I need more time to draw up a profile."

Paul studied her for a second then nodded carefully. "Okay."

xxxXXXxxx

"Barney Walsh?"

He stopped, turning back to face them, still clutching his newspaper and groceries. "Yeah?"

"Special Agents Melody Sim and Danny Love. We're with LA VCU." Mel brushed her hair back behind her ears. "We'd like to ask you a few questions if we can."

"Sure." Walsh turned back to his front door, putting the keys in the lock and opening the door quickly. "Come on in."

"You're the night clerk at the Bayview Hotel, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Been working there for four or five years."

"You working last night?" Unable to stop himself, Danny took a quick look around the room, instincts and training dictating his actions.

"Yeah."

"All night?"

"Well I might have stepped out for a leek or something in the middle of my shift." Barney laughed, setting his groceries and keys down on the breakfast bar. "What's this all about?"

Mel ignored the question, holding up a photo of the murdered girl. "Do you remember her?"

Barney leaned in to look at the photo, squinting at it through the thick lenses of his glasses. "Yeah. I remember her. She checked into the hotel last night." He pushed the glasses back up his nose. "What'd she do?"

Danny settled himself, leaning against the wall, rolling his gum around his mouth. "Was anyone with her?"

"Yeah. Her boyfriend. At least I think he was her boyfriend. They couldn't keep their hands off each other."

"Can you describe him?"

"Maybe." His eyes, wide and panicked, darted between them. "What's going on?"

"She was murdered last night, Barney. In your hotel." Mel sighed, pushing her loose hair back behind her ears again.. "We need you to come to VCU with us."

xxxXXXxxx

"Virgil."

"Hello, Patrick, Mary." Webb embraced each in turn. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Virgil." She touched a tear stained handkerchief to her eyes with a practiced gesture. "I just cant believe that my baby's gone."

"I just want to assure you that my team are going to do everything we can to catch the man that did this. You have my word on that."

"Thank you, Virgil." He spoke with careful precision, his emotions, what emotions he had, carefully walled away, hidden. "I appreciate that."

"I'd like to see her room, if I may."

"Is that really necessary, Virgil?"

"Yes, sir, I believe it is. We believe that your daughter was the fourth victim of an UNSUB. Any connection we can establish between her and the other victims will greatly assist our investigation."

xxxXXXxxx

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…"

What have I done?

My God, what have I done?

I can still smell her perfume, clinging to my clothes and my skin, despite a scalding hot shower. I cant still taste her on my lips.

"It has been three weeks since my last confession…"

I can still hear her laughter, mocking and twisted, echoing through my head, her faced twisted in mirth, laughing at ME.

I can still feel….

"I'm still having these urges, Father…"

…her throat, fragile beneath my hands, her pulse fluttering weakly as I tighten my grip.

Even thinking about it, the memory of her struggling, writhing as she danced on my lap….

"I cant help it, Father."

…even in the memory of it, the faint lingering feel of her across my body….

"I don't think I can help myself."

xxxXXXxxx

"We get a witness?"

"Yeah." Danny threw his jacket across the back of his chair, slumping against his desk. "Night clerk at the Bayview. He's with Mel and the sketch artist now."

"Is he going to give us anything?"

"Don't think so." Danny grinned bitterly. "Says he spent more time staring at the girl than paying any attention to our boy." He yawned, running a hand across his face. "I need a beer. You comin'?"

"Yeah." Paul stopped up, lifting his jacket from the back of his chair. "What about you, Rebecca?"

His words shocked her out of the focus she had found, the faintest hint of HIM slipping through her fingers like mist, like blood before she could tighten her grip. "No, I think I'm going to work on for a bit longer."

"Okay." Paul stared at her for a second longer, then fell into step next to Danny. "What about Mel?"

"I left a message with Carter. She knows where to find us."

Their voices faded as they walked down the corridor.

xxxXXXxxx

She slipped through the door of the hotel room, closing it softly behind her. The room was dark now. Silent. Empty.

Good.

She preferred it like this. It was easier to think. Easier to concentrate. Easier to see.

She walked across the room, clutching the folder in her hand. She opened it, studying each photograph in turn before laying them carefully on the bed. She took a step back, folding her arms across her chest.

Studying them.

Who was he?

Who was she?

She heard movement in the shadows behind her, the cautious clearing of a throat, then his careful tread across the threadbare carpet. She pretended not to notice him, even as he moved closer behind her, her body unconsciously reacting to his presence, her stance tightening.

"Special Agent Locke." His breath moved the loose strands of her hair.

He was close behind her.

Close enough for her to smell his cologne.

Close enough to touch, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, almost touching her slender throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need to see what happened."

**End of Chapter Two.**

_Please Read and Review_


	3. Chapter 3

-1Hey Guys,

Thanks to everyone that has read and reviewed so far! I really do appreciate them!

**Chapter Three**

They sat at their usual booth, huddled together, talking quietly, the occasional ripple of laughter filling out the noise in Dougans. The waitress slipped through the knots of people,

towards them, carrying the tray laden down with their drinks and food.

"Here you go, folks." She sat the tray down, swiftly handing out the drinks, setting the plate in the middle of the table. "Can I get you anything else? 

"No thanks." Paul lifted his drink, leaning back in his chair, waiting until the waitress had gone, disappearing into the crowd. "Where's Mel?"

"She was finishing up…"

"Here I am!" Mel slid into the spare seat, her face flushed. "Man, I need a drink. That guy creeps me out. He's got about as much of a sense of humour as Webb. I wonder if they're related."

"Now there's a scary thought." Danny took a sip of his drink, manoeuvring the umbrella out of the way.

"He give you anything on the case?"

Mel shrugged. "Rough description. Don't know if it'll stand up under scrutiny. There's not a lot of details."

"It's such a strange case." Paul set his drink down, lifting an onion ring. "I mean he's alone with her, he has to put his hands on her to kill her, but he doesn't screw her. It doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he got interrupted."

"Or maybe she wouldn't….ah hell." Danny glanced quickly at his watch and stood up, lifting his jacket. "I got somewhere to be. Catch you tomorrow." He fumbled in his pocket and dropped a few dollars on the table and walked out.

"Well that was strange." Mel's eyes lit up as she saw the onion rings, lying untouched on their plate. "You mind if I eat those?"

xxxXXXxxx

He brushed past her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "So tell me about him."

His scent filled her nostrils, his cologne masking something, nothing. All the others she could place, define by their smell. With him, there was just a haunting emptiness, a blank slate. Nothing to remember.

"Rebecca." His voice held just a hint of impatience.

"I met him somewhere else. A bar. He seemed nice."

She took off her suit jacket, throwing it on the chair he had occupied. Opening the top buttons of her shirt, exposing a little more of her pale kin. Her voice, mannerisms, changing, becoming the victim.

She was always the victim.

"He bought me a few drinks. We had a good time. He was cute, ya'know?"

"Then what?"

He wasn't Paul. He knew how to play this, how to open the door, how to lead her to her fate.

"He kissed me." She smiled, feeling her face flush. "He kissed me and we…"

"Why here?"

"It was the closest place." She giggled, a sound that Rebecca Locke would never have made. She settled herself on his lap, her arms around him, that empty smell filling her mind. She was lost now, trapped until the end. "We didn't want to wait."

"Why didn't he have sex with her?" If he felt anything from her, from her body so close to him, his voice didn't show it.

"He wanted to. I now he did. He wanted to, but he couldn't and that made him ashamed."

She arched her back, her hand brushing against her vulnerable throat, then tightening around it, her fingers digging into the soft skin.

Her breath caught, her voice soft like a last goodbye.

"I couldn't make him feel anything."

xxxXXXxxx

He sat for a while in his car, pretending to talk on his phone, just trying to delay going into HIS house. When the hell had it gotten so hard to talk to his wife?

He sighed and snapped his phone shut, walked from the car to the front door. He paused on the step, looking for one last excuse, one last reason not to go into the house.

When had it become easier to talk to Webb than to her?

He pushed open the door, walking in as quietly as he could. Maybe she'd have gone to bed and he could just watch some of the game and then crawl into bed, all the distance in the world between them.

The low murmur of the TV squashed that hope at birth. She was still awake.

"Hey sweetheart."

She smiled, glancing at the TV while he dropped a per functionary kiss on her cheek. Even she felt the distance growing between them. "I was expecting you home a while ago."

"Work." He shrugged, still leaning across the back of the couch, searching for the words to say to her. "What are you watching?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, gesturing at the screen with her hand. "I stopped caring a while ago."

XxxXXXxxx

He was expecting her, opening the door of his apartment efore she could even knock. His eyes sweeping across her, taking in her appearance, the tiredness in her eyes, the marks of fingers on her neck, vivid against her pale skin.

"Jesus, Blondie." He reached out a tentative hand, almost touching…

"It's okay." She walked past him, feeling comfort, security settled across her shoulders. Nothing could touch her here. She was safe.

"What are you watching?"

"Football. Skins and Eagles."

"It kicked off yet?"

"Not yet. Ten minutes or so."

"So I have time for a…"

"Yeah." He looked away, taking a mouthful of beer, hiding his concern beneath a gruff façade. She always had to do that, had to wash his touch from her body. "Yeah, I left you some towels."

xxxXXXxxx

Webb switched on the small desk light, pouring himself a large glass of expensive whisky. Sitting down in his favourite chair, nursing the drink, lost in thought.

A killer that wanted his victims, yet didn't…

Was he impotent? Did the killings give him a sense of power, fulfilment, control over the victims?

"I couldn't make him feel anything."

He shook his head, wetting his lips with the whisky.

This case was certainly interesting.

xxxXXXxx

She came out of the bathroom just as the Redskins kicker sent the ball spiralling high into the air, her hair still damp from the shower, his Marines football shirt drowning her slight form. She always wore that shirt.

"I left clothes there for you."

"I know." She sat down on the floor in front of the couch, making herself comfortable. "I like this shirt. It makes me feel safe."

"It's just a shirt, Reb.. Blondie."

"No, its not." She glanced up at him over her bare shoulder, the shirt slipping down her arm, her skin pink from the shower. "It's not just a shirt. It's your shirt. It smells like you."

"I washed it." He scratched his jaw uncomfortably. "Yesterday."

"That's not what I meant. Danny." She sighed, losing herself in her thoughts again, becoming someone else. "Paul smells of that aftershave his wife buys for him. Webb…Webb doesn't smell of anything." She shivered, her body rippling, seeming young and frightened.

"And me?"

"You smell clean?"

XxxXXXxxx

The noise of club washes over me, the beat of the music throbbing in time with my pulse.

I clutch my drink, peering across the dance floor, through the darkness split by the intermittent flashes of the strobe lights.

Maybe tonight, I'll feel something.

**End of Chapter Three**

_Please Read and Review._


	4. Chapter 4

-1Hey Guys,

Sorry for the delay with this chapter. I had really bad writers block with it, so I hope it worked out okay. A huge thank you to everyone that read and reviewed the previous chapter. Hope you all like this one!

**Chapter Four**

"Number five."

The words fall like rain into the silent room. The body slumped across the bed, head twisted at an unnatural angle. The room smelled stale, perfume and smoke mingling in the heavy atmosphere.

"She's a hell of a lot prettier than our usual victims." Danny stiffened, his face flushing, glancing at Rebecca. "Sorry."

She ignored him, crouching next to the twisted body on the bed. "Her eyes are closed."

"So?"

"So he closes their eyes. He closed all their eyes. He doesn't want them to see him." She spoke quickly, her word falling over themselves in her enthusiasm. "He's not killing out of anger or passion. He's killing out of embarrassment."

"So…" Paul shifted, staring at the body, gloved hands opening and closing in sudden excitement. "So he finds these girls, brings them to a hotel, tries to seduce them, finds there's no snap in his turtle and….snaps?"

"I think so, yes."

"So where is he finding them?"

Rebecca shrugged. "She's dressed for a night out. Maybe he's meeting them at a local club or maybe he's a taxi…"

"We need to talk to the local bars, see if anyone recognizes any of the victims."

"I know where I'd start." Mel stood quickly, holding up a small book of matches. "I'd start there."

xxxXXXxxx

"We need to speak to the owner."

The bouncer's gaze flicked over them, dismissively. "We're closed. Go away."

Danny glanced at Mel, who shrugged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his credentials. "How about now?"

His eyes wide, the bouncer nodded, hastily opening the door for them. "He's in his office."

Danny grinned as they walked into the club. "I never get tired of doing that."

A small, balding man emerged from an office, interrupting any chance that Mel had to reply. He peered at them through thick glasses. "What are you doing here? We're closed. Come back in an hour."

"I'm Special Agent Simms, this is Special Agent Love. We need to ask you a few questions."

"Special Agents…questions? Is it about my club?"

"Its to do with some customers at your club."

"Is it drugs? Is someone using my club to sell drug? I'll hire more security, do more searches. I'll order my guys to search any one that even look suspicious. I'll do more. I wont tolerate my club being used to sell poison…."

"It's not drugs." Mel spoke quickly across him, relieved when he paused to draw breath. She reached into the case file, pulling out pictures of the victims. "Do you recognize any of these girls?"

He peered at them, squinting through his glasses. He reached out and tapped one with a thick trembling finger. "I remember her." He shuffled through the others. "And her."

"Do you remember if they were with anyone?"

"No. I cant remember."

Mel sighed heavily. "We're going to need your security tapes."

xxxXXXxxx

It was hard to imagine them alive.

Surrounded by pictures of their demise, the marks of his fingers still vivid against their torpor flesh. He was just glad that their eyes were closed and for a brief horrible moment, wondered if that made him just like the killer.

It didn't seem to bother Rebecca.

She looked at the photos, dispassionately, as if she didn't see them as dead girls. She picked one off the board, holding it at arms length, like a prompt card, while she scribbled notes, her pen scraping across the page and across his nerves.

It hit him then, stealing his breath like a hand tightening around his throat.

She didn't see them as dead girls.

She saw them as pieces of a puzzle, as keys to understanding the UNSUB, understanding why he picked them, understanding what made him kill.

The victims themselves were just a means to an end.

He wondered if that was how she saw herself.

xxxXXXxxx

"Can you see them?"

"Will you give me a chance?" Carter didn't look around, his attention focused on the screen, stepping through the footage frame by frame. "This is slow work."

"No kidding." Danny smirked, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "Anyway we can hurry it up?"

"We can hurry it up and I could miss something. You want me to miss something?"

"No."

"Then shut up and let me work." Carter adjusted a control carefully, the figures on screen lurching stop start, frozen again in place by his delicate touch on the controller, his eyes roaming across the screen. "I cant concentrate with you yammering in my ear."

Danny opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Mel's elbow digging sharply into his ribs. He subsided into silence, rubbing at his side, glaring angrily at her.

Mel smirked at him, then looked back at the screen, biting at her lip nervously. "There she is!"

Carter nodded, making a brief note of when and where the victim appeared on the tape. "That's all five." He leaned back in his chair, locking his hands behind his head. "You were right. He's meeting them in that club."

xxxXXXxxx

"Where did you go this morning?"

He kept his voice low, pitched only for her ears. He didn't want the rest of the team to know how brittle she was. How scalding hot showers and an old football shirt were the only things that kept her clinging to her sanity.

"I woke up early." She shrugged, hiding behind the curtain of her loose blond hair, reluctant to meet his eyes. "I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't have to sneak out, though, Blondie." He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were leading him. "It's not like we did anything wrong."

"I know." She looked away, sorting through the paperwork, the fading mark on her neck in glaring contrast to the vivid imprints of the killers fingers on the victims necks. "I just…had to clear my head."

That stung.

"Okay." He turned away, stiffly squaring his shoulders. Wishing he could dismiss her as easily.

"Danny…" She reached out, stopping him with a simple touch, her fingers seeming to burn through his suit jacket. "Thank you. For last night. For making me feel safe."

And just like that….

"Anytime."

xxxXXXxx

"So we have an UNSUB…." Webb leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together, staring at the team over the top of them, tapping the forefingers against each other. "Killing women that he wants to have sex with, but cant? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yes."

He sighed, theatrically. "Do we have a suspect?"

"Not yet. But we have a plan."

Webb raised his eyebrows, staring at them, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

"Our UNSUB finds his victims in this club." Rebecca laid the security photographs out on the table, dealing them out like a hand of cards. "I think we need to flush him out."

Webb lifted one of the photographs, his eyes glinting I n the darkness as he stared at it. "Do it."

**End of Chapter Four.**


	5. Chapter 5

Hey,

Thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed so far.

Once again, I had major writers block while writing this chapter. A huge thank you to Ash Carroll for her help with finishing this chapter!

Hope you enjoy it

**Chapter Twelve**

Loud, aggressive, the music swept across her, soaking through her body, the beat resonating in time with her heart.

The strobe lights flashed, colouring the dance floor with a fluctuating contrast of light and shadow. Faces twisted in shadows, cast in cruel haunting light by the cold, menacing touch.

He was here. Somewhere.

She could feel him, tingling, brushing against her nerves, could feel him in the darkest parts of her soul.

The music pounded, an incessant invading face against her temples. She closed her eyes, feeling the start of a headache, tightening its grip around her, pressing its fingers tighter and tighter.

Just like he did.

"You okay, Rebecca?"

"Yeah." Her voice was cold, clear, almost lost in the noise. "Just…louder than I expected."

"Copy that."

She took a deep breath, holding it to settle the faint rush of nerves through her body. Walking across the dance floor, lost in the press of people. The smell of sweat, perfume mingling in a heady nauseating mix, the dance floor sticky with spilled alcohol beneath the heels of her shoes, her skin alive with the sensation of being touched, fingertips tracing her exposed skin, the nerves dancing with the sensation.

He was here.

She could feel his eyes on her, following her across the dance floor.

Desperate and hungry.

xxxXXXxxx

The van was too small, too cramped and he was about ready to stab Mel with the pencil she kept trying to spin through her fingers and dropping. He could smell the smoke from her as well, clinging to her hair and clothes, thick and overpowering.

He shouldn't be here, helpless, too far away to make a difference. He should be there, in the field with her. Not trapped here, listening to the strands of conversation picked up by the microphones.

Wondering if he had seen her.

But Webb had decided that he wasn't ready for field work yet. That watching from the van was as close as he was going to get to this operation.

Damn him! What hell game was he playing with her?

"You okay, Paul?" Mel leaned back in her chair, spinning the pencil half heartedly through her slender fingers. Distracted by the pictures and the noise coming through, the pencil fell to the floor, landing with a thump.

Paul gritted his teeth as she bent to retrieve it, resisting the urge to snap it beneath his boot. "Yeah. Just worried…"

"She's a big girl, Paul." Mel's smile was bright, easy, inside the small van, almost warm in its suddenness. "She can look after herself. And Danny's there as well."

"Who said I was worried about her?"

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came. "She's all you ever worry about."

xxxXXXxxx

He didn't like this.

Her, putting herself up as bait like this…it smacked of desperation, and they weren't that desperate yet.

Danny shifted position against the wall, ignoring Paul's incessant voice through his earpiece, keeping his eyes on her as she slipped easily through the throngs on the dance floor, her slender body lost, almost overwhelmed.

Almost gone.

What would it take to put her back together after this?

Every time, it got harder and harder to pull away the masks she had to wear to find the real her, to help her hold herself together, not shatter under the strain of what the old bastard had done to her.

Christ she was beautiful.

If anyone tried to lay a hand on her, he'd…

"DANNY!"

He bit back a sigh. "Yeah, Paul, I'm here."

"You got an eye on her?"

Stupid fucking question.

"Yeah. I got an eye on her."

xxxXXXxxx

"What can I get you?"

His smile was just a little bit too perfect, a little bit too bright, too practised, his voice pitched just low enough to make her lean instinctively towards him, affording him a better look down the front of her dress.

She filed it away in the back of her mind for future reference.

Rebecca flashed him a dazzling smile of her own. "Whiskey. Straight up."

"Comin' up."

He turned away to fix the drink and she glanced quickly around her, the music still blasting at ear bleeding volume, the bass throbbing in rhythm with her heart, threatening to pull it from her chest.

"There you go."

"Thanks."

He waved away her attempts to pay. "Its on the house."

"You buy every girl a drink?"

His smile never wavered, even as his eyes slid down her throat, across her breasts, like a caress, a touch. "Just the pretty ones."

Try as she might, she couldn't stop herself smiling. "Thanks."

"What's your name?" He leaned against the bar, closer to her, close enough for his hand to brush against her arm.

Instinctively she drew back, covering her shock by taking a mouthful of the strong liquor, cupping her arm, where his hand had brushed against her, rubbing it hard, scratching the skin with her nails.

She wanted to be clean.

"Rebecca."

"Well, Rebecca, nice to meet you." He stood up, as a chorus of shouts drew his attention to the far end of the bar. "I'm John."

He walked off, and she took another drink, watching him go.

Definitely one to keep an eye on.

xxxXXXxxx

He watched her pull back, his muscles tensed, ready to spring into the fray, to come charging to her rescue, to save her. Her knight in shinning armour.

He almost sneered at himself, at his own fantasy. Rebecca Locke didn't need any knight in shinning armour to come and save her.

"Is she okay?"

He watched her take a drink, the barman smiling at her, then stepping away. He shifted through the crowd, through the almost solid volume of the music, ignoring the irritated looks he got as the crowd was forced to spread around him.

"DANNY!"

All that mattered was her.

"Yeah, Paul, I got her. She's okay. Think we might have a suspect. Get Mel to look at…."

xxxXXXxxx

"…bartender."

Mel balanced the laptop carefully, clutching the pencil tightly between her teeth, her dark tinted nails clicking against the plastic keys.

Paul glanced at her briefly. "Okay, Danny. Stay alert." He tore the headphones off, throwing them on the desk. "Sonofabitch. He's so busy staring at the college girls he's not paying any attention."

Mel glanced up briefly. "Danny always pays attention. He can multi task where pretty girls are concerned." Her speech was slightly slurred around the pencil and she drummed against the laptop casing in frustration.

He realised that she hadn't slipped away for a cigarette since they had started the mission.

"Anything back on the bartender?"

Mel shook her head. "John Taylor. Been employed there for about three years. Nothing major on his record. Couple of DUIs."

"Doesn't sound like he'd make the jump to serial killer."

"No." She glanced up at him again, starting to spin the pencil through her fingers again. "Maybe we got this wrong. Maybe we're looking at things at the end, trying to make the beginning."

"Maybe." He looked around the small cramped confines of the van, longing to pace. "But lets give it until the end of the night. See if she can draw him out."

xxxXXXxxx

"What do you want?" He tried very hard to make his voice nonchalant and unconcerned. Deal with her the same way he dealt with all the other women who had ever been in his life.

He couldn't hide the relief in his eyes though.

"I came to see you." Rebecca shifted uncomfortably on bare feet, her shoes clutched in her hand like an offering. She stared up into his face, her luminous eyes opening wide, her dark lashes making them seem even larger, dominating her face, her make up smeared, making her look even younger than she already did. "Can I come in?"

What else could he do?

He stepped aside, opening the door for her.

She smiled, balancing on her toes to kiss his cheek, the faint smell of perfume fluttering from her pulse points, filling his senses.

"Thank you."

xxxXXXxxx

It was a good night.

I look through the photographs I took, lingering occasionally when one catches my attention. Some of them are useless, the images ruined by the strobe lights, by the press of the crowd around me.

Some of them have potential though.

And then I see her.

Standing at the bar, her head tilted back as she drinks.

The long graceful column of her neck, exposed, vulnerable.

She's beautiful.

She's the one.

**End of Chapter Five.**


	6. Chapter 6

-1Hey Guys,

Once again, I had major problems with writers block on this chapter. I hope it's okay and that you all enjoy the chapter.

Once again, many thanks to Ash for her invaluable help with the chapter.

**Chapter Six**

She felt safe here.

In his bed, wearing his shirt, his smell, him, surrounding her, enveloping her, protecting her. She was safe here, and just for a second, feeling the tentative touch of his large hand against her shoulder, Rebecca allowed herself to smile.

Nothing could hurt her here. She was safe here, just a woman, her clothes strewn across his room, discarded like her disguise, not a victim, not an agent.

Not a profiler, cracking under the pressure.

His hand stroked her arm, stilling tingling, singed from the scalding shower, soothing away the pain like the water had washed away who she pretended to be.

He wanted Rebecca when she came to his door.

"Do you think he was there?"

She jerked away from him, from his touch, his caress suddenly burning her skin, twisting in the bed to face him, her damp, dishevelled hair falling across her shoulder. "How could you ask me that? How could you ask me that here?"

Her sanctuary, gone, punctured, destroyed with careless words.

xxxXXXxxx

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." He jerked his hand through the motions of crossing himself. "It has been one week since my last confession."

So many sins to confess.

He could still feel their eyes on him, could still hear their laughter in his head. Why did they always laugh at him?

He fought to control his anger, to bite down on the anger and humiliation lacing through him. His hands twitched, curling, the fingers angled like claws, her skin soft and delicate beneath his touch.

He gasped for breath, remembering.

He just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be in love. He just wanted THEM TO STOP LAUGHING AT HIM.

"What sins do you have to confess, my son?" The priest's voice was wooden, dull, almost bored. Another faceless petitioner. Another catalogue of petty sins. He wondered if, even now, the priest was trying to figure out who he was.

If only he knew.

"I have lusted, Father." He shifted in his seat, only part of his nervousness feigned. "I have gone to clubs and I…"

"You're a young man, my son." The priest's voice had warmed a little, coloured a little by embarrassment. "These are all perfectly normal desires. You didn't act on them, did you?"

"No, Father."

'I couldn't.'

xxxXXXxxx

Even before he finished speaking, Danny knew he had made a mistake. He felt her body jerk, out of his reach, away from his touch, letting the cold fill the space between them.

"How could you ask me that? How could you ask me that here?"

He could hear the tremor in her voice, could hear the fingertip grip she had on her control, her desperation.

The façade unravelling.

How could he fuck things up?

She stared at him for an instant, then turned away, her long hair falling between them, a barrier across his sheets. He could smell his shampoo still clinging to her hair, mingling with the fading smell of his aftershave.

Shit.

"Blon…Rebecca…" He hung his head, seeing her shoulders shake, reaching out his hand towards her. "I'm sorry, Rebecca. I don't know what I was thinking."

Stupid, stupid.

The bed was safe, a sanctuary, the one thing she had insisted on, the first time she had arrived at his door, barefoot, shoes clutched in her hand, mask crumbling under the strain Webb had placed on her. The one place where she didn't have to talk about the shadows and darkness around them.

And he had fucked it all up.

Shit.

Stupid, stupid.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca."

No answer, her face pressed against the pillow, the thick curtain of her hair, hiding her from his gaze.

No answer, except for the silent shake of her body.

Stupid, stupid.

He sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Standing up, reaching for his jeans, his body instantly cold away from the heat of her body. Away from her.

"I'm just gonna go…."

His voice trailed off, and he looked away, searching through the clutter of clothes in his room.

Maybe by the time he came back, she'd have forgotten his carelessness.

xxxXXXxxx

God, she was so beautiful.

Haunting, a flickering candle in the bar, her smile sad, full of pain, aching with loss and loneliness and….

With something I cant even explain.

It's hypnotising, intoxicating.

Arousing.

I cant stop myself, staring at her, the photo small and crude. It robs her of something, of the haunting beauty that called to me in the club. Sad and lonely. No one has ever been able to touch her, been able to reach the real her.

She's lonely.

As lonely as I am.

Maybe I could be the one to make her smile, the way she should smile.

And maybe she'll be the one I need.

God, she's beautiful.

xxxXXXxxx

"Blon….Rebecca. I'm sorry, Rebecca. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I'm sorry."

She felt his presence slip away from her, the bed odd and too big now that he was gone from her side, the sheets tangled around her. She could feel the pressure on his fingers against her skin.

Could feel the touch, the brush of invisible fingers against her throat.

She drew a whimpering breath, struggling to breathe around the pressure, the grip tightening around her throat. She could almost see his face, dark with anger, staring into her eyes.

Why did these demons crawl into her when he wasn't there to protect her?

"Danny…"

The word slipped from her, slipped into the silent room like a gasp, a last breath, torn from her throat.

"Yeah?" His voice was gruff, struggling with his own emotions, his own failings.

She didn't look at him, her hand reaching, searching blindly for him. Relieved when she felt his hand grasp hers.

"I'll tell you what I think, Danny."

"No." His answer firm, definite, despite the hesitancy, uncertainty in his touch. "No, Rebecca, it doesn't matter."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I'll tell you what I think. But not here, not now." She adjusted her grip, linking her fingers through his, pulling him back towards her with surprising strength. "In the morning. When we're…"

Pretending again.

"No, Blondie." He let her guide him back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her, cushioning her small body against his larger frame. "You have to tell Paul and Webb…"

It never ceased to amaze him, frighten him how small she was, how fragile.

"In the morning." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, almost asleep, the burning hands gone from around her neck, stretching in his embrace. "Just hold me tonight."

Safe in his arms.

**End of Chapter Six.**


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